A Gala to Remember
by Around here somewhere
Summary: A stab at 2x07. Fitz returns from the G8 to photos of Liv and Davis in his desk. Liv is struggling with moving on. There's a shooter in the White House, just biding his time. It's the President's Fiftieth Birthday Gala - and it's not a night that anyone is going to forget. I do not own Scandal, this is purely for fun.
1. Damn Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal, though I do wish I were Shonda sometimes….

A/N: So I originally made myself a promise that I wouldn't start a new fanfiction series without finishing Apparitions in the Night. So, as I see it this will be a 3 chapter arch of goings on and guessings of episode 2x07, but I wanted to get it out before the episode aired… I will continue working on Apparitions in the Night until it is finished…but meanwhile, enjoy : ) The title's a song by All-American Rejects.

A Gala to Remember

Part I: Damn Girl

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III.

My brilliant idea of using the G8 conference to give myself space was a complete failure. With the exception of making the queen laugh, I hadn't really gotten anything done. For example, I hadn't been able to convince myself that I was any less in love with Liv than I had been when I had walked into that restaurant. The idea of burning the bridge and leaving for two weeks hadn't helped me in the least. Now not only was I more in love with her than any time before, I missed her.

I was sitting in the oval office the morning after I returned, looking over some paper work and trying to forget that my birthday was just around the corner. I took a deep breath and kept reading, even though I'd lost what remote interest I had in the subject fifteen minutes previously and was daydreaming about something else – but I had to read it over. I had to find a way to concentrate while my mind kept going to Liv.

I set the papers down for a minute, desperate for anything that could distract me when I opened the drawer to my desk. I opened it up al l the way and pulled out a file folder that I didn't remember having in there when I left for the G8. i put it on the desk, and was puzzled – it wasn't even labeled. Cyrus usually went through my desk once a week and organized what I hadn't during the week – at first I had gotten annoyed, but that hadn't stopped him. Over the course of time, I had just gotten used to it.

I flipped it open, and narrowed my gaze. I wasn't even sure what I was looking at, it was a stack of photos, sure, and the first one was time stamped from about a week ago. It was too dark to see anything really, I just made out blurry shapes. I flipped to the next one, and could clearly see what was going on, my heart breaking with each passing photograph of Livy, my Livy, and Senator Davis. His arms around my Liv, his lips – I couldn't even think about it anymore.

My jaw clenched and I felt my stomach sinking like a rock. I genuinely was afraid for a minute that I was going to vomit – all over the oval office. I wondered for a second how many presidents had gotten sick in there, but was quickly put back on track. There was only two people who would put those photos in my desk, and only one of them had the resources to get them. I threw the photos back in the folder, and went straight for Cy's office.

"What the hell are these," I said, slamming the folder onto Cyrus' desk.

"This wasn't me," Cyrus said, flipping through the photos.

"Then who the hell was it?" I replied, "They were in my desk, Cy."

"Oh, you found them quicker than I thought you would," Mellie said briskly as she walked right by me to hand Cyrus a paper of some sort, "So there will be no objections to giving Senator Davis his plus one?"

"For what?" I could barely swallow.

"Your fiftieth Birthday Gala," She said, as if he were a complete moron for not thinking of it himself.

"I told you I didn't want a big party," I replied and Mellie gave me a faux sympathetic look.

"You can't always get what you want," Was her only response, and I sighed.

So that was how I ended up where I was that night, sitting across the room from the woman I loved while she enjoyed the evening on the arm of Senator Davis. She was pleasantly avoiding me, and had since she had come through the door. I got the feeling that she wanted to be anywhere but here, but Mellie had orchestrated it so that she had had limited options. What? Was she going to tell her newly reinstated boyfriend that her ex was the president and that's why she couldn't go to his Birthday Gala – no, she wasn't.

I couldn't help myself, but I was staring over at her table the whole evening. Part of me knew how cruel it was, and the other part hoped that she could feel my eyes on her all night. I watched every interaction that she had with Senator Davis like a researcher might watch some rare species of bird that he was trying to save from extinction.

I barely touched my meal, which didn't go unnoticed by anyone at my table, all of whom had noticed my mental absence from any sort of social activity. I would be getting and earful from Cy the next morning, but I really didn't care – not when I had a perfect view of Senator Davis' hand on her shoulder. I could feel my face go to stone and suddenly I wasn't angry. I wasn't mad, I didn't want to go over there and snap his neck, and take her for my own – I was sad.

I was just sad that she was there with him, and not me. I was sad that I was there with Mellie and that I hadn't been enough of a man to have the courage to call it quits. I had let the ambition that I had had as a young man, the one that was thirsty for politics and power hungry. I wasn't that man anymore, I was meek, and tired, and love starved , and all I wanted was to have Olivia, my Livy by my side. The big white house that I had convinced myself that I had wanted meant nothing, I was cold, I was dead, and I was drowning.

The servers came around and collected all the plates and dishes from dinner as the band started up, and they opened the floor to dancing, calling for me and Mellie to be the first out there. She plastered on her fake public smile, and I got up out of my seat, taking her hand and leading her out onto the dance floor. At least it would be a break from having to sit at the table. I glanced several times over at Liv, who now had no excuse not to be looking at me as the whole room clapped. I wondered how all of those clapping would feel if they knew exactly what was going on.

"Pull yourself together, Fitz," Mellie whispered, she was furious beneath her smile – as per ususal.

"I'm doing my best," I replied and she rolled her eyes.

"You're not."

I hoped that no one picked up on the fact that I was holding her about a foot away from myself – but I just couldn't stand to have her any closer. I knew Olivia noticed, but she wouldn't say anything.

"It wasn't my idea to have her here."

"She dumped you, she's back with the senator," I knew if we weren't on a dance floor she would have been screaming at me, "Get over her."

"She didn't dump me," I finally just came out with it, "I pushed her away."

Mellie stopped, shocked – but luckily it was the end of the song, and the band was starting up the next one. People were flooding the dance floor, and I walked away from her. I wasn't even worried that someone might be watching me, and made a b-line for the bar. I needed a drink. If I was going to manage to get through tonight, I was going to need a drink – or a few.

I sat down at the bar, made a little small talk with guests that were over there as had a couple scotches. I kept looking over at Livy, how beautiful she looked, and how wrong it was that Davis was spinning her around the dance floor instead of me. Mellie had gotten over my revelation, and was making her way around the room talking to people I wasn't even sure that I had met before.

"Everything ok, Sir?" the bartender behind the counter asked.

He looked like a college kid that they had hired for the evening, but somehow he looked genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine," I smiled back at him, "Just one more scotch, ok? I won't bug you for the rest of the evening."

"Ok, sir," He said as he poured him a new glass, and then went back to serving the others.

I looked back out on the dance floor and had lost Olivia, no idea where she had gone. I spotted Senator Davis chatting with a few of his pals, smug bastard. If Liv was mine, I wouldn't see the point in any time alone. He had her and he didn't even see how precious she was – how perfect she was.

"Mr. President," It was Liv, popping up by my side.

"Liv," I replied, going to throw back my drink when she caught my hand, "Hey."

"That's enough, Mr. President," She said, setting the glass down on the bar and taking my wrist.

"I don't think that's up to you.." I started, realizing that, perhaps I had had one too many.

She was leading me off down the hall, away from the party – towards the Oval Office. She was mumbling under her breath the whole way, I could tell that all she really wanted to do was turn around and slap me – it was what I deserved.

"C'mon, Liv – just hit me, it would be more humane," I said as we stopped off in a side conference room.

"I'm not going to hit you," She said, sitting down on the couch – that was when I realized I was sitting on the ground, "It wouldn't even begin to cover the stunt you just pulled. It wouldn't even begin to cover you watching me the way you have – all night."

"I'm not worth it, Liv," I slipped out, then added, "I let you go when I should have fought like hell. I could say that it was what I thought it was what you wanted – but you and I know that's bullshit. It would be easier, if I could let you go. Wouldn't it? Wouldn't it be so much easier?"

"Fitz, you're drunk," She tried to stop him.

"I know I am," I replied, "But I still know that I still love you – and I always will. There's never going to be a time when I'll see you with him and not want to disappear. I'm not mad – I'm just…"

"You always thought that somehow we'd figure out how to make it work," She said, "I did too."

"So why don't we make it work?" I asked, forcing myself to get up and onto the couch next her – I felt nauseas.

"Here," She handed me the trash barrel that was next to her, "Go for it, you'll feel better after. Maybe we can make you presentable after."

"Thanks, but I don't need it," I said, but kept it right in front of my face, "Why don't we make it work?"

"Because, Fitz," She said, "You're the President of the United States, and you're drunk off your ass. I'm a scandal fixer and I'm a major contributor to the one of the century-"

"I don't know about that," I pointed out, "I still say Kennedy and Monroe've got a quite a few points on us."

"That's not the point."

"That is the point," Fitz said, "I'm the Preident, and the only way I could make it through my own birthday Gala without shooting myself was to get shitfaced. Like a kid, Liv – this, whatever we're trying to do now? It's not working either. You must see it too."

"I do," She replied, "But we have to at least try."

"We have been trying," He replied, "I tried getting over you the adult way, I tried getting over you by drinking you away. I was drunk for eighty percent of that G8 conference, Liv. That's how I got the Queen to laugh – I was buzzed."

"You can't drink like that," She said.

"I can't live like this," I replied, "We've got to figure out something better. You can't honestly tell me that you're happy with Davis."

There was a long silence.

"I'm not," She admitted, "But I could be."

Just then, I couldn't hold it in anymore. There was a burning in my throat as I felt the entire contents of my stomach, which wasn't much – empty into the trash bin. I took a breath, and realized that Liv was rubbing circles around my back when I went and got sick again. She waited a few minutes after I was done, and took away the trash bin from my face.

"C'mon, Fitz," She said, taking me by the wrist again and heading into the bathroom across the hall, "Let's clean you up."

"Liv," I said, as she wetted a cloth and washed my face for me – there was a knock on the door.

She went to open it, and came back with a small bag, a bagel, toasted with cream cheese, and a coffee. She put the coffee down on the counter next to my hand and handed me the bagel.

"Eat," She said as she took a small comb out of the bag and started fixing my hair.

"I don't think I'm going to be presentable," I mumbled, "No matter how well you patch me up."

"So sit at a table with Cyrus and a few other people," She said, "Make small talk and drink lots of coffee and water."

"Fine," I replied, mouth full of bagel, "And what're we going to do about our situation?"

"I really don't know, Fitz," she replied, handing me a toothbrush as soon as I had finished the bagel, "Right now, all I'm worried about is getting you back out there without anyone realizing that you managed to drink yourself sick."

"Fair point," I replied, spitting into the sink, and then throwing the toothbrush out, she handed me a piece of gum, "You're fixing me, right now, aren't you? Is there going to be any time when you won't be there to save me?"

"No," She replied, throwing the comb into the trash as well.

"So we're still us?"

"We are definitely still us."


	2. Speed of Sound

A/N: Hello, thanks so much all of you for your fabulous reviews for this story, I think that I'm going to definitely upgrade this to just a story, but not a very long one…and I'll update it not as much as the other one. … I'm going to alternate Liv/Fitz POVs. Enjoy :) (Oh, and holy shit the episode tonight! I was going to wait a week for this one, but after that last episode I couldn't help myself…Feel free to PM me to chat about it (: )

A Gala to Remember

Part II: Speed of Sound

Olivia Pope.

I couldn't fully comprehend how quickly my life had changed. I was always going at about a thousand miles a minute, but really? How had this much change come this quickly. I was in a relationship, and one that I was only half hiding out of my own free will. Edison didn't have a wife that we had to hide from, and he didn't have a country that he was supposed to be running that we had to hide from either. It was just Edison, and me – and it wasn't right. Well, it wasn't that it wasn't right – it just wasn't what I knew I was capable of. I knew now that I was capable of that all-consuming, rage evoking, crazy love. I wasn't content with being content.

I had been sitting on my couch, watching Fitz's most recent speech from England. He looked off, he wasn't acting quite the right way, the way I knew him to hold himself – it was all wrong. I took a deep breath and took a sip of my wine – the invitation to the Gala that I had helped Cyrus plan on the coffee table. Edison had brought it over the night before, to add on a plus one. She sighed, and feeling a tear starting to form – down the last bit of wine in her glass instead. She paused the TV, right on Fitz's face. He looked just like he always did – gorgeous, charming, and strong, but still there was something wrong with him. I took a deep breath, and there was a knock on the door. I shut the TV off.

"Edison," I answered the door with a smile – it was forced, but somehow he didn't pick up on it.

"Hello," He smiled, handing her the flowers he had been holding and leaning in to kiss me.

I closed my eyes before he got too close, and all I could see was Fitz. I had to convince myself that it was him that was wrapping his arm around me, pulling me closer to him. I blocked out my sense of smell and put in Fitz's instead. I could still smell him like my face was pressed into his chest, he had always smelt so good – it wasn't something I would ever forget. Then, as his lips pressed mine, I fought. I fought myself to keep eye contact with the Fitz that I had imagined in my mind – but as he deepened the kiss, it was just all kinds of wrong.

"Are you all set to go?" Edison asked, looking me up and down – which I had mixed feelings about.

"Let me just grab my purse," I replied, an excuse for him to release me as I turned and grabbed it off the counter.

So that was how I ended up where I was that night, standing in a White House bathroom supervising Fitz as he drank his coffee. He was so handsome, I started to lose my head a little bit – but then stopped myself. My thoughts shifted to Edison – how long would it take for him to realize that I was missing? How long would it take him to deduce where I had disappeared to?

How long before everyone realized that Fitz had slipped out? And how quickly after that would Edison, Cyrus, Mellie, and everyone else to realize that I too was missing. Mellie had all the press she needed just by walking out of the ballroom to the entrance hall. Then wouldn't we have an event on our hands, a Gala that no one would ever forget.

"Relax," Fitz said as he took the last sip of the coffee and chucked it into the trash, "Probably should have brushed my teeth after the coffee, huh?"

"Are you feeling better?" I asked and he shrugged.

"I'm fine," He said, "Should we head back to the party, so you can continue to pretend you're not in love with me? – Ok, maybe I'm still a little inebriated, but much better than before."

"You will be just fine," I replied, fixing his tie, "They expect you to be a little intoxicated – it is your birthday."

"It is my birthday," He replied, and suddenly they were very close.

They were too close. I was trying get up the courage to say something. I couldn't just let this happen. He was drunk, it would set us back weeks. If he really was going to insist on reevaluating how we were approaching all of this, it would be a hell of a lot easier if he was sober. Or at least at a time that he hadn't just thrown up into the trash bin less than five minutes ago. So why was it so tempting for me to just let it –

Bang! Like a rocket or a car backfire or an explosion.

Gunshots rang out in what sounded like somewhere nearby. I squatted, pulling Fitz down with me with force and then crawled with him under the sink. No one knew where we were – there was no way that they would be able to find us. More shots went off as the door to the bathroom swung open. I didn't move – terrified – petrified. I hung onto Fitz's sleeve like she thought he might actually go to get up.

"Miss Pope? Mr. President?" It was Tom, who had been waiting in the hall.

"We're under here," I replied, recognizing his voice, and he ducked down.

"Smart," He said, "Stay there with him, ok?"

"My kids are in the residence," Fitz voiced and Tom nodded.

"Secret Service agents already have them out of the building sir," He replied, "Now we just have to worry about you getting out."

"So what's the plan?" Olivia asked and Tom took a breath.

"We don't know who the shooter is," He said, "We have our guesses – but we can't be sure."

Just then his radio picked up on what was going on down the hall. People were screaming, and yelling, and crying – none of them seemed to know what to do. There was an outgoing call from what sounded like Hal asking for ambulances, five of them.

"From what I heard before I came in here – it's a lone shooter," He replied, "He shot what seems to be randomly out into the crowd, then either took off or blended in. I waited outside to get a better picture of what's going on in there, that's when I head Carlson had already gotten the kids out. And I can't call for backup on the radio – because who ever it is could be listening. So, the protocol is to get you out. There's a passage way into the secure tunnels to get you out the back – but the closest one's at the end of the wing."

"Which you don't want to risk going to if we're perfectly safe in the bathroom?" Olivia checked and Tom shook his head.

"With just me guarding you? No," He replied, "But, I'm going to try and secure the area. The whole place is on lockdown, except for a few rotating Agents, so I'll look for Hal, or someone else I trust enough to tell what's going on. I'll try and secure the area, there's a room at the end of the hall that can double as a safe room – we'll see if I can get you two in there. But for now, both of you stay here, and don't come out from under there, ok?"

There were more gunshots from somewhere, they seemed further away than they had been when the shooter had been in the ballroom. Tom seemed to realize this and hopped up to his feet – leaving a last warning to stay put. Then he took the opportunity of knowing that the shooter was heading in the wrong direction to run out of the bathroom. This must be downright embarrassing to the secret service, who had very carefully checked every guest as they came in.

I turned back to look at Fitz. The exhausted and slightly inebriated Fitz of ten minutes ago was now alert, aware, and terrified. No one had to do the math out loud. There was a shooter apparently loose inside of the White House, everyone knew who the target was going to be. Everyone knew that the big prize, the golden target was slapped right onto him, and I think that he knew it the most out of anyone.

"Ok, the area's as secure as it's going to get," Tom said as he walked back in.

"How far is it?" I asked as we unfolded and climbed out from under the sink.

"Just a few hundred feet," He assured me, "I got both of the security doors on either side closed, and all the rooms checked. We'll just move quickly and get you both into the safe room, ok?"

"Ah," Fitz said, he was fifty, it wasn't as easy for him to fold up and hide under the sink, "Thanks, Tom."

"C'mon Fitz," I grabbed his hand and we followed Tom out of the room.

The hall was terrifying, it was quiet, and we were going quite cautiously towards the safe room at the end of the hall. The Security doors looked sturdy enough, like you were on a space shuttle or something – like garage doors. Tom had his gun drawn, ready for anything, leading us, but also watching our backs. He opened the door at the end of the hall – then checked inside one more time before letting us go in.

"One second," Tom said as we walked in, and stood waiting for him.

He hit a series of buttons on the pad just inside the door, and then went to run and open up the doors – so that it wouldn't be obvious where the President was. He ran back into the room with us, and the door shut like the door on a plane. The room looked like a living room, there was a fridge in the corner with food, and plenty of water stored up – an attached bathroom. I looked down at our hands, which I then realized were still entwined. I went to let go of him, but he held on tighter.

"So we're locked in here?" Fitz said, looking to Tom, "What happens now?"

"I radio that you're secure," He replied, "That's all I say, they still don't know where you are. The White House stays under lockdown until we find the shooter – no one else in or out unless they're injured."

"How long is this gonna take?"

"It's a big house, Sir," Tom said, taking out his radio and pressing the button to go to all radios, "This is Agent Doe, the president is secure, I repeat – the president is secure."

"Agent Doe?" I questioned.

"No one can know who's with him," Tom explained, "Just in case."

"Turn up the radio," Fitz said, sitting down on the couch as Tom sat at a table, he pulled me along with him.

"Mr. President, I don't think that's such a great idea," Tom replied and Fitz glared at him.

"I am the President of the United States," Fitz said angrily, "And if you have to lock me in this box – I understand that. But I have to know exactly what it going on – how many people are hurt, and how many are dead because I'm hiding out here."

Tom turned up the volume on his walkie-talkie and put it on the table. It kept flipping through different things. Hal seemed to be ordering for new ambulances each time he spoke, though the background noise was quieter now. I could just imagine the people sitting around the ballroom, too terrified to move, not knowing if the shooter would come back, or if the shooter was even sitting right next to them. More and more seemed to be wounded than they thought.

"I need two more ambulances," Hal said – and then was cut off by another Agent.

"Shooter seen running past south stair," An agent over the radio called in, "The main south stair – is anyone in that vicinity that can cut him off?"

"The main south stair?" I breathed.

"That's right around the corner," Fitz replied, and Tom nodded – but didn't respond to the call.

"You're just going to sit here and not go out after the guy?" Fitz was livid, "He's shot how many people? He's just within your reach."

"My job right now is to stay with you," Tom replied, "There are enough agents to cover the floor."

"Not on this end," I replied, "He started going the other way first. And God only knows how many agents are still in the ballroom helping out. Guarding the doors…"

There was still no answer to the radio call.

"Damn it!" Fitz yelled, shooting up off the couch – abandoning my hand for the first time.

Tom was starting to feel the pressure – I could see it in his face. He wanted to go out there and get the guy just as much as Fitz wanted him to. I stayed quiet, not wanting to say anything – not needing a voice in this matter. I didn't even want to be there in the first place. I wanted Fitz to be safe, I didn't want to be at the White House at all, and I wanted Fitz to hold me. I was on the verge of a screaming tantrum, and knew that this was not the time, or the place. I wasn't used to this. I was used to being able to power my way into making things happen – here I was powerless.

"I'm on it," Tom dropped the radio knowing he was going against all protocol, "You two stay the hell here."

He left the shelter of the room cautiously, resetting the alarm and door just as he left. I looked straight to the tinted, multilayered, near bullet proof glass window, watching him start to walk by it – then he froze. I grabbed hold of Fitz's thigh and his jaw dropped a little bit. There was slight relief as he continued on. Fitz got up and went to watch as he walked down the hallway. I couldn't move – I wouldn't move. I peeled my eyes away from the window as Tom disappeared from my view – but not quite from Fitz's. Then, all I heard were shots as I squealed, closing my eyes.


	3. I'll Do Anything

A/N: The title song's by Jackson Browne.

A Gala to Remember

Part III: I'll Do Anything

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III.

I watched partly in shock at Tom laid just below the edge of the window, blood starting to ooze from his chest. My heart was racing, what could we do now? What was the next step? The shooter was standing at the end of the hall – he looked a little familiar, I just couldn't place him. I was sure I'd seen him somewhere before. He hadn't seen me yet. The windows were tinted so you couldn't really see what was going on behind the glass, and as bullet proof as was possible, but it still sent a current fear down my spine as he started coming closer. No. Tom was still alive – he couldn't…

"Fitz," Liv said behind me, but I blocked her out, paralyzed by fear.

She kept calling for me softly, but I could barely hear here. The gunman reached down and took the gun and stood back up, so that he was eye level with me. Our eyes met, through the glass, and there was no way he didn't know that I was staring back at him. He took a step closer, looking right through the glass, and I just stood there, paralyzed by fear hoping that I somehow at least didn't look as threatened as I felt. Liv was quiet, she understood what was going on. Then, he disappeared, took off down the hall.

"Get someone on the radio," I yelled to Liv as I went over to the door – taking off my suit-jacket.

"You're not going out there," She replied and I looked at her as if she'd lost her mind as I ripped off my ridiculous bow tie.

"I don't have time to argue with you," I yelled at her, "That man out there has saved my life more times than I can even count. The best I can do is drag him out of the hallway."

"He's trained to protect you," She argued, physically blocking him from the door, "I can't lose you."

"He's not after me, Liv. You think he couldn't see me just now?" I yelled back, "If he were after me, he would have smashed through the Goddamn window with whatever the hell he's got on him!"

She stood in the doorway, watching my back as I went out and assessed the situation. It looked like the bullet had gotten him in the gut, and I threw my arms under his, dragging him backwards through the doorway and into the safe room.

"Idiot," Tom breathed as I laid him on the floor, "You're not supposed to be the one saving me. I'm supposed to take the bullets."

"I wasn't just gonna leave you out there," I replied as Liv shut the door, "Liv, there's a kit in the cabinet."

She went over to it as I took off his coat, and then peeled off his shirt – but didn't let it go far. It was sopping wet. She came back and kneeled on Tom's other side as he started to groan in agony. The bleeding was so thick that I couldn't even see where it was coming from anymore – I went from memory. I balled up his shirt and pressed it against where the wound was – hoping to stop the bleeding. But clearly that wasn't enough. I pulled off my own and balled it up on top of it.

"Get me the ace bandages," I told Liv, and she handed me two rolls – which I used to keep them pressed into him.

The bleeding had gone down, but it wasn't stopped – but it was the best I could do. I stood up and looked down. My hands, arms, and chest were covered in blood.

"Call for help," I tossed the radio to Liv as she stood up.

"Who am I supposed to call?" She replied as I walked into the bathroom to at least try to wash off.

"Frequency 88.6," I called out to her, thankfully most of the blood was coming off easily, "It should go straight to Hal's personal radio. I've seen them use it before. Tell him Tom's hurt and we need out. Also, tell him that I'm not the target. Tell him to build up security around the ballroom."

I finished washing off Tom's blood and splashed some water on my face for good measure. I walked back out and Olivia was sitting on the couch with the radio. She looked scared, just looking down at Tom on the ground, who had since passed out.

"I checked his pulse," Olivia replied, "He's just out."

"Did you get in touch with Hal?" I asked, walking around Tom and sat down next to her.

"Yeah," She replied, "He's on his way."

"Good," I said, and I wrapped my arm around her, which surprisingly she didn't fight.

I assumed this was due to how terrified she was, and she snuggled into my side as I slipped down a little. I went to hold her with both arms and kissed the top of her head.

"It's all going to be ok," I assured her, "He's probably already out of the building. Hal's coming – we're going to get Tom help. It'll all be over soon."

"No," She breathed, eyes wide, "The shooter—"

"What about him?"

"His name's Charlie, he's a trained CIA spy, and assassin. He could see right through that glass," She told him and he took a sharp breath, "This is far from over. Fitz, someone hired him. And apparently it was someone who knew their way around."

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"I just know," she replied.

"I believe you," I replied, stroking the side of her arm.

"Fitz," She breathed, and I nodded, she was still staring at Tom on the ground.

"Don't look at him, look at me," I told her, and she tilted her head up.

"He's not after you," Liv said and I nodded.

"It's gonna be ok, Livy," I tried to assure her.

"Hal's not coming," She said and looked at her curiously, "It doesn't take this long to get from the ballroom to here."

"He probably had some people to take care of first," I said, "Besides, Charlie's probably already out of the building."

"But whoever hired him is still here," She said, not at all comforted.

"It'll be ok," I told her.

"How do you know?" She asked, and I sighed.

"Because I'm not going to let anything hurt you, Livy," I replied simply, "I will protect you, and I will get you out of this."

That was when I should have kissed her, but I didn't. Instead I helped her to sit up, and then got up myself, going over and checking Tom's pulse. He was still going, not as strong as I would have liked – but it was still going. I didn't have the heart to wake him up. As long as he was unconscious he wasn't feeling the full brunt of the pain, and that was all we could do for now. I made sure his bandages were tight, and then looked over at Liv.

"C'mon," I said, extending a hand to her as I stepped over him and helped her up, "We're going for help."

"We're leaving Tom?"

"If I don't go get help, he's going to bleed out, slowly," I told her, "And I'm not leaving you here to just sit and wait for him to come back if he's still in the building. But either way we're just sitting ducks here without Tom."

"Ok," Liv said, and I took a deep breath as I saw the trust in her eyes as she took my hand, "Can I remin, "Can I say something?"

"What?" I asked.

"We need to get Tom to the ballroom," She told me, "From what's been coming through on the radio the secret service are triaging and sending them out in ambulances – carefully, right out the back service door."

"Once I'm out of the building no one's coming back for him," I realized what she was saying, "At least not in time."

"We have to get him to the ballroom."

"We go to the ballroom there's a possibility I won't be able to protect you," I replied.

"If we don't get to the ballroom, Tom's going to die," She pointed out, "I can fend for myself. I do have a date waiting for me."

It felt like a slap in the face, until I remembered that I had a wife in the ballroom. And while Karen and Gerry were confirmed safe elsewhere, my unborn baby boy was unfortunately bound to Mellie. I shook my head, there was no way I was going to let my mind wander on that one for any length of time. I had no control over that situation, I only had control over this one.

"We have to get something to carry him on," I pointed out and Olivia looked around the room.

"How attached are you to that door?" Olivia replied, pointing to the bathroom door – it was thin, but sturdy.

"See if you can find a toolbox," I said simply, and she ran over to the closet she had gotten the first aid box from.

"I saw one when I got the first aid stuff," She said, running back and handing it to me.

"Maybe we're going at this all wrong," I said, as I was taking the screws out of the hinges, "And besides, if the target's still alive, they're in the ballroom."

"What do you propose we do then?" She asked.

"We head away from the ballroom," I replied, "I can get you both out. We can use Tom's security pass to get us downstairs."

"We can put him in the limo and drive him to the hospital," Olivia finished for me, and I nodded, "I'll drive, you have to be in the back."

"That's fine." I said, as I lifted the door off the wall, and laid it next to Tom, "Tom's a big guy."

"Just be thankful it's not Hal," Olivia replied, and I nodded – sending up a quick prayer for Hal too, I sort of hoped he hadn't even tried to make it over there.

Liv swiped Tom's safety card from his pocket, then helped me shimmy him onto the board. She then went and stood by his head, while I went to his feet. She kicked off her heels, and then bent down.

"I can't carry him by myself, Fitz," She pointed out, and I nodded.

I ran over and checked the window – the hall was completely deserted, so I went and opened the door a crack so that I could kick it open walking backwards. I went back over and picked the board up at Tom's feet.

"So how far did you say that door was?" Olivia asked, as I struggled to pick up the slack, and keep him flat.

"It's four doors down."

"Four doors? In an open hallway?"

"We have to go fast," He replied, "We can stop and rest once we're on the other side of the door. There's a little room at the bottom of the stairs."

"Stairs?"

"You can go down forwards," I said, as we started moving, and I kicked the door open, "We have a small window where we can pull this off, Liv."

We edged slowly down the hallway, struggling to keep Tom at a good angle so that he wasn't in danger of sliding off. He was looking paler and paler by the minute, and I couldn't help but think he might not even make it to the hospital. I had the radio clipped to my belt, but turned to silent so that we wouldn't alert anyone we didn't want to know we were moving.

Finally, we made it to the door – and Olivia ran the key against the censor. As soon as she did, the door swung open just a little bit, and there was more gunfire. It was coming from the direction of the ballroom, there was no way to tell if it was Charlie or an Agent. It didn't really matter which it was, because Olivia's eyes went wide, and she froze.

"Livy, there's nothing we can do for them," He replied, "We just have to assume that the secret service have it under control. That they're taking care of everyone. The only person we have a halfway decent chance of saving is Tom, ok?"

"Ok," She breathed, and I nodded.

"Now, c'mon," I said, heading backwards down the stairs.

She took a visible breath, and followed me down the steps. It was an awkward journey, and I could have sworn the staircase ended several times. We got to the bottom of the stairs and Liv was huffing and puffing.

"You need a break?" I asked and she shook her head.

"The limo's right there," She said and I nodded – that was my Liv, "And Tom doesn't look like he's going to last much longer."

We grabbed the keys from the key hooks, and she opened the back door. We lifted the board once more and managed to barely fit it through the door, and I climbed in to ride with Tom as I pulled the radio off my belt. She climbed in the drivers' seat, and started up the engine, scanning Tom's car to open the back garage.

"What hospital are the victims being taken to?" I tried to disguise my voice as I shouted into the radio.


	4. Fix You

A/N: Hey guys I'm so glad that you're all liking this story, and thanks for keeping up with the reading! Hope you guys like the 2nd to last chapter! Also, the title's a song by Coldplay, again – sorry but it's just too good of a title ;). Oh that sneak peak! I swear if Puddin' Pop doesn't go away soon…

A Gala to Remember

Part IV: Fix You

Olivia Pope.

I was sitting in the ballroom, watching Fitz and Mellie rotate around the floor. He was holding her too far away, and they both looked stoic. I could tell that they had just had one of their infamous fights, maybe ten minutes before they showed up. They were good actors, I had trained them well – but anyone who was paying close enough attention to them would be able to tell that they weren't – anything. They weren't in love, they didn't even like each other. Their marriage was a legal arrangement, and he wanted me. I felt as if I could have walked right over and tapped on her shoulder to cut in. He wasn't happy. Letting go of him would be at least ten times easier if he could just be happy. He was happy with me, but that wasn't what he wanted me to be to him anymore. I had to accept that fixing him wasn't my job anymore.

"Do you want to dance?" Edison asked, oblivious to my internal monologue, as other couples started to join them on the floor.

"Sure," I swallowed, letting him offer me his hand and letting him bring me out on the dance floor.

He was holding me too close, I wanted to make him hold me looser, but I didn't know how to communicate that. I could feel Fitz's eyes on my back as he finished his dance with Mellie, they had almost completely dropped the facade, but luckily no one was paying attention to them anymore – except me. Mellie looked a little more pissed off than usual, and Fitz just looked tired. They stopped dancing promptly and he walked off the dance floor.

"Everything ok, Olivia?" Edison asked, "You seem – spacey."

"I think I just need to sit down," I said and he nodded.

"Well you can go ahead," He smiled at me kindly, "I have a couple people I need to say 'hi' to anyways."

"Ok," I breathed.

The minute he was gone, and I was off the dance floor I was looking around for Fitz. Mellie had her nice fake smile back on, and was mingling around the crowd. Which was exactly what Fitz was supposed to be doing, so where was he? I looked around, and finally spotted him at the bar. He was starting to sway on his stool, and I was sure that within a few minutes he would be attempting to walk – which would not end well for him. I took a deep breath, it wasn't my job to fix him anymore. I looked over at Mellie, who had also noticed the state of her husband, shooting him a dirty look that he had no way of seeing.

"Liv," Mellie said, walking over to her, "So glad you could make it."

"Yeah," I replied, a little less than enthusiastically, "What're you going to do about him?"

"You're the fixer, go fix it," She replied, she was once again not pleased, "Oh, are you worried because he told you that he didn't care anymore?"

"He didn't phrase it quite like that," I replied, and Mellie rolled her eyes.

"That is the man's fourth scotch in a half hour," She said, "And every single on of them was downed while he was staring at you. So, that would suggest that it is in fact, your problem."

"Mel-"

"You know, I was proud of you when I found out about you and senator Davis," She siad, "He's a nice man, and it shows some back bone. You're not just going to become an old maid waiting around for my husband. But it turns out you're just as pathetic as he is. You can't control it, can you?"

There was something to her condescending tone that just made me up and leave the conversation. She put back on her fake publicity smile and went back to mingling as I made a zig zagged and altered line towards Fitz. I didn't want Edison to see me go up to him, terrified that some how he would be able to tell just by looking at me with him.

"…If you could just control-" I whipped around to see Hollis and Cyrus talking angrily and in hushed tones in the corner of the ballroom, James and Hollis' wife far from sight.

"Liv," Cyrus said, changing his whole demeanor as he spotted her looking on, "C'mere, C'mere."

"What's going on, guys?" Olivia asked and they shook their heads.

"This fa-"

"We're not discussing it here," Cyrus replied sternly, and I nodded as Cy caught my eye – it was about Defiance.

"Let's not worry about it, ok?" I tried to keep the peace, which everyone knew to be impossible when it came to Hollis and Cy, "Let's just enjoy the party."

"Will do, Miss Liv, will do," Hollis said, and then walked away grumbling.

"Why haven't you done something about him?" Cyrus said callously, nodding over to Fitz, the bartender was handing him his fifth, "He's been like this since he apparently tried to let you go."

"I was on my way," I replied.

That seemed like lifetimes ago now as I was driving down the street, we were in the clear – we were out of the White House. Fitz was in the back with Tom, and I glanced back. It seemed that Fitz's shirt that was putting pressure on the bleeding was no longer doing its job. I pressed the gas a little harder, trying to get to Georgetown University Hospital's emergency room as quickly as I could. I actually invited Cops to call me on speeding, they would make a good escort but then I remembered we were in the presidential Limousine. There was no one that was going to bother us, especially tonight.

The agent who had answered Fitz's call had told him that they had been sending them to the city hospital and the University Hospitals as operating rooms were opening up. He had told them to leave a room open at Georgetown, and to send any security agents that they could. They didn't seem hopeful that they would be able to get anyone over there.

"This is Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III," He had nearly shouted into the radio, "You get security to Georgetown."

He had gotten it out just before the radio went out of range, and I pulled the limousine right into the emergency ambulance pull up. There were doctors outside, undoubtedly waiting for the next ambulance to pull up. I turned around to check on them again, and Fitz had collapsed the back bench seat, and was waiting on Tom's side.

"We can't tip him again," He replied to my unanswered question, "He's got to get out through the trunk."

I got out of the car, and walked around, popping the trunk. The Doctor that were standing around looked surprised to see the limousine. There were two men, and two women. Both women were skinny waif types, and one of the men looked to her to be pretty scrawny – Fitz was better built than he was. I pointed to the other one as Fitz got out of the car.

"You, help him," I said as Fitz went around to the trunk, "Girls, get a stretcher."

"You go on the inside," Fitz told him, "You'll be able to get through the trunk easier."

"Yes, sir," He said, climbing into the back of the limousine.

"We need a waiting room that's secure," I told the string like guy who was just kinda sitting there, "Find a secret service agent, and give him a small waiting room."

"There aren't any here, ma'am," He said, as Fitz and the stronger doctor were getting Tom out of the car.

"Then we need a small waiting room," I said as the girls returned with a stretcher, "No one can explicitly know that he's here."

"Ok," He said.

"And we're going to need a phone," I told him and he nodded as he ran off into the building.

"Ready?" Fitz and the doctor had Tom out of the car, and the girls were assisting them in getting Tom from the door to the stretcher.

"Ma'am," The scrawny Doc was back as they rolled Tom into the hospital, leaving her and Fitz outside, "The room's ready."

"Can you clear the hallways?" I replied and he nodded.

"No one will see him going in," He said, handing Fitz a dress shirt and a hoodie, "It's much too chaotic in there."

"Where did you get this?" Fitz asked, putting the shirt on, and then throwing the hoodie over his head.

"The chief of surgery keeps extra clothes in his office," He said, "You two are about the same size."

"Keep the hood up," I stated the obvious, but he didn't comment like he might have ordinarily.

We had to walk through the ER to get to the room, and I didn't realize that I was holding his hand until I was squeezing it tight. I was holding him back. There was nothing but the hurt, the bleeding, and the in pain. There was no free space, simply carnage – everywhere. She would have thought that Charlie would be more careful, but clearly he didn't care who he hurt.

"Right in here," said the doc as he ushered them into the small room.

"A few agents should be coming soon," Fitz said, "Probably in an ambulance."

"I'll bring them right to you," He assured him, and backed right out of the room.

"This is ridiculous," Fitz said, shedding the sweatshirt and throwing it onto the chair in the corner as I turned on the TV, "I'm not hiding out in here. Not with all those people out there."

"You can't go traipsing around amongst them until we get security," I replied, I had known that that was the first thing on his mind the second we had walked in.

"What about the baby?" He asked, "What if Mellie went and got herself shot?"

I took a deep breath.

"We'll handle that when we come to it," Olivia replied, "But I'm pretty sure shot or not, the pregnant first lady would be the first one on any ambulance."

"What about Cy?" He asked and I shrugged, "Or Hal? Or Hollis? Or that kid at the bar? Or anyone else in that room who ever meant a damn?"

"Fitz," I tried to calm him down, "Calm down. It's like you said when we were moving Tom, we can't do anything about that. We did what we could."

"No," He replied, "You did what you could. The only reason I wasn't in that room when those shots were fired was because I was so drunk that you had to come fix me, again. That's not fair, Liv."

"And the only reason I wasn't in that room was because I was fixing you," I pointed out, "You stopped me from being in that room, no matter how you look at it. Don't let this be a guilt on your part, Fitz. You didn't hire him to shoot up your birthday."

"Who do you think was the target?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he got him?" Fitz asked.

"I can't imagine he would leave until he was certain that he had," I replied, "People who are trained like Charlie…"

"Are trained like Huck."

"How do you—"

"I know everything about every member of your team," He replied, and I nodded, "Everything you haven't covered up."

"I am the best," I replied and he nodded as I turned the TV on.

The major news stations were now all reporting that the President had been taken to the hospital, and that the shooter had gotten away. Figures, they seemed to have gotten the word that the President was fine – and went into analyzing how the shooter had been able to pull it off. How someone could so easily infiltrate the White House just to have such a shooting spree. They were hypothesizing that it was a professional job, possibly an inside job – and I knew that both hypotheses were correct. The numbers started to roll in, an estimated thirty-five people had been snuck out of the white house by secret service, and another forty or so with minor injuries were being released and transported now.

"This place is about to become a madhouse," Fitz commented as I shut off the TV.

I didn't know the two agents that showed up at the door a few minutes later, but it didn't really matter. I could tell that they were clearly back-up, not ones that were normal back up – but the ones they only would send in emergencies.

"Oh, Good," Fitz said as they walked in, "I want to make a couple rounds and check in on people."

"Sorry, Sir," said the darker one, "I'm afraid you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"The ER's about to be filled with upwards of twenty people," replied the other, and Fitz nodded – defeated.

"Well then, let's make a deal," I walked over, "You're going to find out the status of a few particular people for us – and if you can, bring them to us. We're going to start with Cyrus Beene, The First Lady, we'd like to know the whereabouts of The First Children, Agent Hal Cole, and Senator Davis. And you're going to tell us the status of Agent Tom Bernard."

I caught a slight look at Fitz's face as I said Edison's name – but I had to know what had happened to him. We were back in the real world now, we weren't in a little room basically by ourselves where we couldn't pretend that no one else existed. They did, and we had to address that fact head on. I was sorry to hurt Fitz, I never wanted for that to happen. In my greatest dreams I figured out ways to keep him safe, to fix his whole life for him so that he had no pain, no heartache, nothing – but that was impossible.

"Thank-you," He told the agents as they left the room – and I heard the lock close after them.


	5. Wouldn't it be Nice

A/N: So, let's finish this off, shall we? The title song's by the Beach Boys, duh Love you guys, thanks for sticking with this story…

A Gala to Remember

Part V: Wouldn't it be Nice?

Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III.

I was standing in the back kitchen, waiting for the restaurant to be cleared. We had to wait for the rest of the patrons to leave, then the secret service would fill the room, then I would be able to go in. I could see her sitting there, at the table. She was playing on her phone – probably emailing someone about something that she would do later. This wasn't what I wanted – what I was about to do. But it was what was right, it was a way so not drag her along any more – let her be happy instead of just waiting around for me. If it was meant to be, it would be, right? I just had to trust that she was my soul mate – that in the end, I would be with her, because that's how it was supposed to be.

She looked up, noticing that it had gone silent – it was go time.

"The United States is having him deported," I said as I sat down at her table with her.

"So Lavage is forced out of the US and has to return home to Kurdistan. Where he'll I don't know, chill? For the rest of his life in a giant palace while Jenny Nystrom's murder goes un-avenged."

"It's the best I can do."

"Nice. Wonderful. America's the greatest country in the world," She replied sarcastically.

There was a long silence, where I just looked across the table at her. She was angry, and I understood completely. I was angry myself that there was nothing more that I could do. For Jenny Nystrom, or for us – for her. I wanted to make it all go away, like I had the people in the restaurant. I wanted to make everything better, but walking away for now seemed like the only way I could make anything better for her.

"One of your staffers could have told me this over the phone."

"I wanted to see you," I said, desperately.

"Why?" She shot back, and it was like ice, "What's the point?"

"I'm going to the G8 tonight," I didn't want to let go, I'd give her one more chance to say that she'd stay with me through this – though I didn't blame her for not wanting to, "Wanna hitch a ride on Air Force One? – Yeah I didn't think so."

She was just looking at me, so hurt – so broken. I understood why she hated me so much – I hated me. I never wanted to see her like this, this look on her face was everything that I had been trying to prevent.

"You must really hate me, for falling in love with you," I said, then went into an explanation of why I couldn't do better for Jenny.

"Can I walk out of here or will I be stopped by Tom and Hal?"

Damn it. I was losing her, in a way that I didn't want to – in a way that I wouldn't be able to recover her from. A way in which I simply wouldn't recover at all.

"Liv," I pleaded.

"Where can this go? Really, other than me joining the mile high club with you on air force one. How is there any future here?"

"Fine," I said, after yet another long pause, "We're done."

"What?" She breathed, and I propelled myself into the speech I had prepared for her – knowing if I didn't I would lose all my nerve.

"I'm letting you go. That's what you wanted. And look, I'll drop the charges against Edison – it's fine…I'm married. Have children. I can't do this. It's not fair to you, or me, or Mellie, or the country. I have to be responsible. Right?"

Again, all she had to say was to tell me no. Tell me that it was ok, that she loved me too. That she knew that she was the only one for me, just like I knew I was the only one for her.

"Right," She whispered back, and my heart shattered.

…

I was pacing around the room, waiting for the agents to come back with news, any news. Liv was sitting on the couch, head in her hands. I took a deep breath and went over and sat next to her – wrapping my arms around her softly, trying to comfort her as best I could. I had no idea what they were going to come back and tell us. This was, most likely, the end of the road of the nice little truce we had going.

"Liv," I spoke up, leaning back, "While we don't know what's going on out there – we need to figure out what we're going to do."

"What do you mean?" Olivia replied.

"Liv," He breathed, "We can't keep going the way we have. We have to figure out how to make this work."

"Fitz, the country's in a panic," She said, then pointed to the TV in the corner, "Look at the death toll, it's at eight. Eight people are dead, from a shooting at the White House. We are not going to through us into this too."

"When else are we going to have time to flesh this out?" I pointed out to her, "When are we going to have time. As soon as we're out of this bubble, we're not going to have any time."

"We're done, Fitz," she replied, "You said it yourself."

"Are we?" I said, clearly we weren't, she had to see that, "Does this feel over to you, Liv? Does this feel like we're ever going to be over? I don't know about you, but I know for a fact that no matter what happens, every day when I wake up – I'm thinking of you. My thoughts, my dreams, my everything – you are my everything, Liv. I let you go only because I wanted you to have a chance to be happy. But I was going to take you back as soon as I could."

"Funny, because I never really let you go either," She replied, but she wasn't happy about it.

"Livy."

"I don't know how to go about this any better than you do," Olivia was pissed – I didn't blame her.

She had been pretending – at least on the surface – that we didn't matter, that we weren't a thing.. It was protecting her, and I didn't mind that – but it wouldn't last. That whole system that we were running on previously, it could go on – but for how long? It wasn't going to last long enough. We couldn't stay apart – and we both knew it.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Olivia replied – as if calling me back to earth.

"I leave Mellie," I said it, "And it's no use convincing me that I shouldn't – I'm going to. I'm leaving her, we have enough on her so that she'll wait until my term is over. Then, I will announce that we just couldn't make it work, and we're scot free."

"And while you're still in the white house?" She asked and I nodded.

"We're us."

"And you think that's going to work?"

"Mellie's out of the picture – you can come back to the white house," I offered, "We can be together, Liv. What do you say?"

Before she could answer, the agents returned with Cyrus in toe. We shot up from the couch to their feet. He was visibly upset, his hair was going every which way and his eyes were red. I was shocked at seeing him in such a state, but olivia went right up to him. Her compassion and ability to figure out what to do so quickly was something that I always envied in her, she was good at it. I took a backseat and sat on the coffee table as she sat him down on the couch.

"Cyrus – what's the matter?" Olivia asked him, but somehow I got the feeling that she already knew the answer, I would never know how she did that.

"James," Cy's voice broke – and he spoke in more of a screechy, "He's dead, that bastard shot him right in the forehead the last time he came in the ballroom. We were all sitting there like sitting ducks. I made him come – it's my fault. If he had stayed home like he'd wanted to…"

"Cy," Olivia stopped him, "You couldn't have known that this was going to happen. You would have never asked him to come. You loved him – you would have kept him as far away from it as possible."

"I thought I was keeping him away from it," He said, looking straight at her, and I realized that I was missing something.

"Cy, that's-" A look of horror and realization marred Liv's face.

"What's going on?" I asked, but I was ignored.

"Cyrus he wouldn't-"

"You heard him earlier," Cyrus said, "There's no coincidence that he took his wife and left ten minutes before the shooting started."

"Do you two know who did this?" I was shocked.

It was like they were having a silent conversation, and I was the odd one out. Usually, it was Liv and I who shared our little inside conversations that were way over Cy's head – but here it was in the reverse. I could understand why now, that Cyrus hated it so much when we did.

"No," Olivia looked away from Cyrus and to Fitz, "We would never be able to prove it – and it's not important anyways."

"People were shot, how is whoever shot them not important?" I asked.

"We'll get who shot them," Olivia promised me, "I already have Huck on it, tracking him down."

"Charlie," I told her, "But what about whoever hired him? You two know who it is."

"Sir," One agent reappeared in the room, "Senator Davis is in surgery at the city hospital with a bullet in his leg. The First Lady was gazed in the arm, she's at George Washington, she's fine, the baby's fine – but they're keeping her for observation. The first Children are in route here, they were very happy hear that you're unharmed. Agent Cole is recovering from a bullet in the shoulder, and has been out of surgery for a few hours. Agent Bernard's bullet was successfully removed, and he'll be placed in Agent Cole's room when he is out of surgery. Is there anything else that we can do for you?"

"Reroute my children to George Washington," I told him, "Mellie's injured, they should be with her – tell them I love them, and to watch over their mother."

Olivia was trying to comfort Cyrus on the couch, and I put my hand up to my head.

"Cyrus, I am so sorry," Liv was telling him over and over.

"I need to get out there," I told the Agents, "I need to go out and talk to the people waiting in the waiting room, then I need to get to the white house. Tell them to set up the oval office – I speak from there, tonight."

"Yes, sir," One agent said.

"But first I need the room, for a few minutes," I continued, "Please have Cyrus transported wherever he wants to go. Have an agent stay with him, and make sure that someone has an eye on him?"

"Yes sir," The second agent said, as Cyrus got up off the couch and allowed himself to be escorted out of the room.

"Liv," I breathed as soon as the room had been cleared, and she walked over to me cautiously, allowing me to wrap my arms around her.

"James," she breathed.

"I'm going to have you sent home with an Agent, ok?" I told her, "I'm not going to be able to stay with you tonight. I need you to keep Huck on finding Charlie. But I need you to have the team look into whoever set up the shooter. You're ok, Livy. You're out of danger and now I have to do my job – ok? I'll call you tomorrow."

"I can't do it," She breathed, "I can't lie to you – but I can't investigate this. Cyrus can't either – it's cruel and awful, but there's nothing we can do. We can take down Charlie, but there's nothing we can do…"

"How did I know that was what you were going to say?" I asked.

"It would be nice if we could do all those things," She said, and I nodded, "If I could hold the person who did this responsible. If you could somehow leave Mellie before the end of your presidency, if we could be together."

"It would," He replied, "And it will be. I promise you, Liv. I will come for you – the second that I can."

"And I'll be waiting."


End file.
